It Looks Like This

by Rafi Mittlefehldt

  I don’t answer.

  But I glance back, just once.

  He’s not grinning like he normally does. He just looks pissed.

  He takes another drag and watches me walk off.

  On my birthday there are three presents waiting for me at my place at the kitchen table.

  Everyone’s already up by the time I get downstairs. Mom is making breakfast. Dad’s reading a book. Toby looks up and grins when she sees me.

  Mom has put a little cupcake at my spot with a single candle in it. When she sees me, she smiles and takes a matchbook out from the drawer and lights the candle.

  She and Toby start to sing “Happy Birthday.” Dad lowers his book and watches.

  I blow out the candle.

  I’m fifteen now.

  I try to smile but don’t. It’s my birthday but I’ll be inside.

  I think about tonight and wonder what Sean is planning.

  This year while I’m fifteen:

  • I can get my learner’s permit.

  • I’ll start sophomore year.

  • I can lead a junior prayer group at church.

  I make this list on a sheet of notebook paper and stare at the three bullet points. This is all I can really think of, though.

  Plus I doubt I’ll ever lead a junior prayer group. It would make Dad and Mom really happy, but I don’t think they’d pick me.

  It’ll be cool to get the permit. Dad says he’ll start teaching me after the holidays. Just in parking lots and stuff so I can get a feel for the car. I have to wait until six months after my birthday to get the permit, though. That’s the law here. Just like Wisconsin. It’s kind of weird.

  It’s cool to be fifteen, I guess, but there’s not much that is going to happen now that I write it out.

  I’m making this list just to give me something to do. It’s late evening. We already had dinner, and Mom and Dad are just downstairs watching TV. Probably they won’t stay up for the new year. They never do.

  My room is quiet and dim. I keep checking the red numbers on my alarm clock.

  9:35.

  9:58.

  10:11.

  Just before ten thirty there’s a light knock at my door. I can still hear the TV downstairs.

  I look up and Toby pokes her head in.

  She says, Hey, come downstairs. I wanna stay up till midnight and watch the ball drop in Times Square.

  Toby has tried to stay up till midnight for three years in a row, but she always falls asleep.

  I say, I dunno, Toby, I’m kinda beat. I’ll probably go to bed early.

  She frowns at me. She never hides her disappointment.

  She says, Okay,

  and starts to close the door.

  I say, Hey, Toby.

  She looks at me.

  I say, Are Mom and Dad still up?

  She says, No, they went to bed a few minutes ago.

  I say, Okay.

  Toby leaves.

  Ten minutes to eleven, I’m just staring at the clock nonstop. I get up a couple times and look outside the window, but there’s nothing there.

  The TV’s still on downstairs.

  I’m sitting on my bed with my sketch pad and pencil to pass the time. Not really sure what I’m planning to draw, but it takes shape pretty quick.

  It’s Charlie, or a quick sketch of Charlie, running away from the viewpoint. I scribble some rough trees around him. Leaves on the ground and trailing in his wake. Hills and a creek.

  Charlie running in the woods at Grandma’s house.

  I stare at the sketch for a moment, then look up at the alarm clock just in time to see it switch from 11:01 to 11:02.

  I sit for a half second, then scramble up off the bed and hurry to the window, sketch pad still in hand.

  There’s a figure standing in the shadows by the side of the house. My heart starts beating fast.

  Sean waves when he sees my silhouette.

  Slowly, I lift my free hand and wave back.

  He makes a gesture and I realize he wants me to open the window. So I open it.

  He whispers and in the silence outside his voice carries easily to me.

  He says, Come on down.

  I shiver in the chill breeze coming in from outside.

  I say, How?

  Sean is holding a bag, which he puts down before he walks up to the outside wall. He climbs on top of the outside fan for the air conditioner, just below my window.

  He points to the electric meter, just to the right and a little above him.

  He says, Climb down on the window ledge, and put your feet on that.

  I look at him.

  He says, Don’t worry, I got you.

  I look at him for a bit longer, shivering, then break out into a grin.

  I say, Okay. Let me get my jacket.

  I rush to find it, trying to be as quiet as possible. Once I have it and put my shoes on, I start toward the window, then stop.

  Very quietly, I tiptoe to the bathroom, grab my toothbrush, and go back to my room. I close the door and turn off the light, and head to the window.

  Sean is still standing on the air conditioner fan, looking up.

  I climb out of the window feet first, heart pounding. I know I’m clumsy and I’m kind of scared of heights too. But Sean steadies my legs.

  When I’m finally dangling from the window, I feel for the meter with my legs, Sean helping me, and after a moment I’m standing on it, facing the wall.

  Slowly, I turn around.

  The grass isn’t that far below me. I jump and hit the ground at a roll. I hear Sean jump down from the fan as I get up, and suddenly he’s standing in front of me, grinning.

  I grin back.

  He says, Happy birthday.

  We walk through the neighborhood, whispering only sometimes. Most people’s lights are on, but hardly anyone’s outside even though it’s not that late. Whenever a car comes by, we hide.

  No one knows we’re here. I’m shivering a bit, but not with the cold. Sean puts his arm around me as we walk.

  I turn my head in every direction, looking out for anything or anyone. Every now and then we see a distant car or person but mostly it’s just us.

  Still in a whisper, I say, What’s in the bag?

  Sean’s still carrying it in his free hand.

  He says, Rope. I didn’t know how easy it would be to climb down from your window.

  I nod, and he holds me tighter.

  Then he smiles a bit and says, And some other stuff.

  But leaves it at that.

  I’m about to ask what else is in the bag, but I think I hear a noise behind us.

  I turn around in time to see a figure far off crossing the street. But he’s a ways back. I turn around and we keep walking.

  It’s like before. Streetlamps, turning us yellow in their light as we get near and then leaving us in darkness when we pass.

  It’s colder now but lighter. The moon is out now, no clouds to cover it. A breeze pushes against our backs then slows, then pushes, blocked in part by my jacket but more by Sean, his arm always around me, leading me and holding me.

  No crickets now. The only noise is:

  Us. Our quiet steps.

  A car every now and then.

  The wind in the trees. Rustling branches.

  We’re heading toward the beach again. It’s our place, something that belongs to us. I like this thought and I smile.

  The sand makes the ground unstable, and I step higher as I walk, spraying it in all directions. Sean too. I look back once at our scattered messy footprints.

  We go to a spot just in front of a small sand hill, facing the ocean. Behind us are low bushes and scrub and driftwood blocking out the neighborhoods.

  The ocean is stronger tonight, waves and whitecaps crashing with more force, drowning out the only sound there might’ve been from behind. Out here it’s easy to pretend we’re alone for miles, far away from houses and people and yellow streetlamps.

  The breeze is stron
ger too and it’s colder by the ocean. Sean holds me more tightly as we sit, so tight I can feel his heartbeat through our clothes.

  He looks up.

  He says, Kind of crazy how many stars you can see on the beach.

  I look up too.

  I say, When’s your birthday?

  He says, May eleventh.

  I say, You’re a Taurus, right?

  He says, Yeah.

  I scan the sky, and then point at a spot a little to our right.

  I say, See those five stars close together in a small V formation?

  He looks where I’m pointing. After a while, he finds it and says, Yeah.

  I say, That’s your constellation. Taurus.

  He says, No shit?

  I say, Yeah. There’s more to it, but that’s the bull’s head.

  He laughs and says, That doesn’t look like a bull’s head to me.

  I say, I know, you kind of have to use your imagination.

  I point a little ways away and say, That one’s easier to make out. It’s Orion. The three stars are his belt, see? Then the two stars above on either side make up the shoulders. Then two at the bottom to make up the corners of his tunic thing, and then over there are his arm and his bow and arrow. He’s shooting at your bull.

  Sean laughs again.

  He says, You know your stars.

  I say, Yeah, I’m kind of into it.

  Normally I think I would be a bit embarrassed by this. But this time I’m not.

  Sean just holds me and we look up at the sky.

  After a long time, his watch goes off, sending out tiny beeps.

  He says, Oh shit, we only got a minute.

  I’m confused for a second but then I understand. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a bottle of wine, a corkscrew, and two wineglasses. He works quickly, taking the cork out and pouring first one glass, then another.

  He says, I couldn’t get champagne.

  He hands me a glass and looks at his watch. After a moment he starts counting down.

  He says, Five! Four! Three! Two! One!

  At zero, he smiles at me.

  He says, Happy New Year.

  We clink glasses and take a sip.

  Sean holds me tight again and we watch the ocean for a few moments. Far behind us we hear firecrackers popping every couple minutes.

  Then he turns to me. I look back.

  He leans in and closes his eyes and kisses me, and I kiss back, tasting the wine on his lips. It feels less weird this time, a bit less clumsy. My hands go under his jacket, around his chest and back, feeling everything.

  Sean runs his hands through my hair, holding the back of my head.

  Far away some car horns blare.

  He pulls away for a second, breathing harder now.

  Then kisses me again, pushing my jacket off my shoulders. His too. And then my shirt, lifted over my head, and I help him with his.

  It’s cold and that makes us hold closer together.

  We kiss longer and longer, hands running over each other, and then I hear another voice from nearby, deep, gravelly, so close my heart stops.

  It says: Sean.

  Sean pushes away from me, hard, knocking me back. I scramble to my feet looking for the voice, trying to get my balance on the soft sand, Sean already standing.

  There’s a figure just a few feet away, around the corner from the short sand hill. In the low light I don’t recognize him at first, but then I do and my stomach drops.

  Sean says, Dad!

  His voice almost cracks. He’s already putting his shirt on. I just stand there, cold now, staring, mind blank.

  Sean’s dad looks at him with an expression that makes me shiver.

  Sean says, Da —

  Mr. Rossini says, What are you doing?

  Low, almost a whisper.

  Sean pulls his jacket on.

  He says, I’m not — we’re not doing —

  Mr. Rossini says, Didn’t look that way to me.

  Sean says, No! Dad! It wasn’t —

  Mr. Rossini says, Shut up.

  Sean walks toward his father.

  He says, Dad, listen, we weren’t —

  Mr. Rossini swings out of nowhere. His fist hits Sean square in the jaw, and Sean goes down, letting out a small cry. I jump back.

  Mr. Rossini’s eyes are flaring now as he looks down at Sean in the sand at his feet. Sean’s lip is cut and bleeding, but he just looks up at his dad.

  His dad says, I know what I saw.

  Sean says, We didn’t —

  Mr. Rossini says, I said shut up!

  It’s the first time he shouts.

  He reaches down and pulls Sean up by the arm easily, bringing him to his feet.

  He says, We’re going home. Now!

  Mr. Rossini looks back at me for just a second. I step back from that look, from those eyes that are so like his son’s every time I’ve seen them except now.

  He drags Sean away. I can hear Sean’s voice fading as they disappear behind the bushes and into the yellow light of the streetlamps.

  I stand there for what seems like hours. Just staring.

  This is what I see:

  • Patterns in the sand where Sean fell.

  • Wineglasses knocked over, one of them broken.

  • Bottle on its side, still dripping wine into the sand.

  My shirt is still off and I’m freezing now, shivering hard. Slowly, I reach down and get it, shaking out the sand, and pull it over my head.

  Every now and then there’s a sound like popcorn off in the distance. Kids setting off firecrackers.

  Then I hear someone laughing, very nearby.

  I jump again, looking around.

  There’s some movement in the darkness of the bushes, and then Victor steps out. He tries for a second to keep it in but he can’t, and just lets it out, sort of bent over, laughing really hard.

  I stare at him.

  He catches his breath after a minute and says, Hey, Mikey!

  Sort of in between gasps.

  He straightens up. Takes a deep breath, still grinning.

  He says, Man! Look at you.

  That sets him off and he laughs again.

  I stare at him, shivering so hard it makes me sway a bit.

  He says, Sorry to ruin your New Year’s. I just saw you two heading down the street and followed you. Just ’cause you seemed a little close.

  Victor steps out a bit more into the moonlight. I can see his phone in his right hand.

  He laughs a bit more and says, Anyway, yeah, I called Sean’s dad and told him his son was making out with some dude at the beach. Jesus! Didn’t think he’d actually punch him, but that was something else, right?

  Something in my stomach gets hard.

  He says, Goddamn, all those times I called you a queer, I didn’t really think . . . I mean, I could sorta see it, but damn.

  My hands close into fists by themselves, slow.

  Victor shakes his phone and says, Got it all on video. This is, like, YouTube gold.

  I take a step toward Victor.

  He says, Oh, hey, maybe your dad wants to know too. Should I give him a call?

  I stop, and the hard spot in my stomach loosens.

  Victor laughs again. Easy, like he just heard a joke.

  I run.

  I run past him, through the bushes, into the street. I run as fast as I can, houses blurring by.

  I feel nothing, hear nothing. At some point I remember my jacket, still lying on the beach, but I don’t care. I’m just thinking about getting home.

  The streets pass by and I turn here and there without thinking.

  I start to think of Sean but see only his head snap back as his father hits him, his legs giving out under him, blood streaming from his lips, and I shut it out.

  I slow down on my block, and now I can feel the cold again, hear my panting, feel my sweat dripping down my forehead. My lungs itch from the cold air. At the front door I stop, catching my breath, wanting to be q
uiet. It takes a minute. My stomach cramps.

  Slowly, I open the door.

  Mom and Dad are sitting at the dining table. They look up as I walk in.

  Mom puts a hand to her mouth, lets out a small noise like a whimper. She wants to say something but won’t. So instead she lowers the hand and wrings it with the other. She looks helpless. It is the worst feeling, watching her look helpless.

  Dad’s stare is blank and dead.

  He says, Go to bed, Toby.

  Toby is in the living room. She gets up immediately, walks out of the room, glances at me only once. She looks scared.

  I look back at Dad, listen to Toby’s steps as she walks upstairs. The close of her bedroom door. Then just silence.

  Dad says, I got a call from a boy at your school.

  I was waiting for this but still hoping for something else. My stomach drops. I want to throw up.

  Dad doesn’t say anything for a while. His mouth works but no words form. He stares into space. Finally he looks back at me and says, quietly,

  Why don’t you go up to bed too?

  I say nothing. I just go.

  I’m in the bathroom, staring at the counter. My toothbrush isn’t in its usual place and I can’t figure out why. I stay that way, almost totally still, staring helpless at the empty toothbrush holder for almost ten minutes before I remember I brought it with me to the beach.

  Then I turn and leave the bathroom and head back to my room.

  We don’t talk all of New Year’s Day, or the day after. I stay in my room the whole time.

  I think about the night before.

  Sean holding me tight on the way to the beach.

  The sound of the wine bottle opening.

  His dad’s voice. Sean pushing away from me, hard.

  Victor’s laughs.

  Just that, over and over.

  School starts the next Monday.

  Dad tells me the night before that I’ll be staying home. He’s going to write me a note.

  I know it’s not for me; it’s for him.

  I sleep in. Half awake I can still hear Mom and Dad moving around, getting ready. Then Toby.

  Then after a while it’s quiet.

  I wake up fully and walk downstairs.

  Mom has left a note: She went to run some errands. Bank, shopping for new reading glasses for Dad, taking Charlie to the vet for his annual checkup and shots. There’s Frosted Mini-Wheats for breakfast and she left a sandwich in the fridge for lunch.

  I pour myself some cereal and milk and eat it at the dining table.